This brought momentary relief to the startled girls. Conservation men are government men and these, Florence believed, could be trusted.
Pulling in close to shore, the boat dropped anchor. A sturdy, sun-tanned man leaped into the small boat they had in tow, and rowed rapidly toward land.
“Who’s the man who went into the bush just now?” he demanded the instant his feet touched land.
“M—man?” Florence stammered. “There is no man.”
“So I see,” the newcomer grumbled. “There was one, though. Don’t try to deceive me! I saw him! He’s short, stoutly built, rather dark, with a week’s beard. Now then! Does that convince you?”
“Yes.” Florence found her knees trembling. “Perhaps,” she thought, “these Conservation men have saved us from trouble without knowing it.”
“Yes,” she repeated, “I believe you are telling the truth. You did see a man. But—but he doesn’t belong to us. Truly he does not! Wait! I’ll tell you about him.”
“Tell me about yourself first. What are you doing here?” The man did not smile.
“Why—we—we—we—” Florence was greatly disturbed. “We came over here from the wreck. We—”
“Oh!” her inquisitor broke in as a smile overspread his face. “You’re the girls living out there on the wreck. That—er—I owe you an apology. We’ve heard of you. You’re O. K. You see, we’re the Conservation men on the island, Dick and I. Got to see that no game is killed, no trees cut, no fires started, all that.